I'm Bidin' My Time

I was going to look up the definition of "drudgery" but I can't find my dictionary. I picture that garbage lady from "Princess Bride" - 'Boo! Boo! Boo!' "Why do you do this?" "Because you had true love...etc...get to the good part...so bow down, bow down to her. Bow down to the Queen of Slime, the Queen of Garbage, the Queen of Putrescence. Boo! Boo! Boo!" Okay, maybe that's not actually drudgery, but I love the way she says 'putresence'. Providing I even spelled that correctly.

I am grateful that we could finally afford a house in this New England, out of control prices market. I am grateful that my children are healthy and relatively happy and that I am blessed in being able to raise my littlest one every day and see the amazing growth - sometimes it seems minute by minute. But it takes more than that to have a healthy, happy, productive life. Anybody who says otherwise isn't one of the people who gets it. And they probably don't have a healthy, happy, productive life. Spending three evenings at week at the Albion ain't productive. It's not even happy, it's haze-happy.

I wonder how these last five months are affecting me. I see some signs. They're not all that good. I'm losing some aspects of my character that I've always been fond of - but hasn't always endeared me to others. I think one of the biggest things is that I rarely smile or laugh - only for the baby and that's forced most of the time. I find that hard to believe. Me. The two things I do best of all are smile and laugh. I don't understand people who think that my living in an inefficient and sometimes dangerous house - with no place to relax or be surrounded by the things I love and appreciate - that spending twenty-one to twenty-three hours a day with my youngest either on me or keenly under my supervision (or feet), that having little or no adult conversation for days, sometimes weeks on end, is something that I should put up with because "[I'm] the one who wanted to have a baby."

It is drudgery to do the same thing day in, day out with little variation. Get the teen-ager up at 6:00 am. Get the teen-ager up at 6:10 am. Get the teen-ager up at 6:20 and remind her that her walking companion will be here in little less than half an hour. Lay on the couch while baby finishes sleeping on me. Take teen-ager to school in inclement weather. Argue with TA about appropriate attire. Feed baby breakfast. Dress baby. Take trash out on Wed's, recyclables on Thursdays. Put in laundry. Fold laundry while doing "The Dino Dance" = which I count as exercise. Take baby to bathroom so I can go. Snack. Outdoor tromping. Lunch. Nap. Yell at TA for inappropriate attire. Cat box. Bathtime. Computer and phone monitor. Arguments with the TA (and trust me, there's a lot). Fixer of lunches and dinners. Dishwasher several times a day. Grocery shopper. House painter (and a piss poor one, apparently). Mail collector. Stamp buyer. Cleaner. Mopper. Do it all over again, almost word for word and action for action - all without help, appreciation, thanks (the baby hugs me when I do good), conversation or...company. And when I do have company, it's constant arguing and sniping. And I'm supposed to be grateful for this? I'm supposed to be raising a family, not be Dobby the House Elf. How can I raise my family when I don't go anywhere, do anything or talk to anybody. I do not function as a woman or a human, just a mommy and an indentured servant.

I am a woman. Not a girl and no longer someone's daughter. I shouldn't have to ask permission to live my life. Promises have been broken and broken and then broken again. I have been blamed for everything because of my need to multiply and I have been forced to give up the only career I have ever known, the only family there is to love me and the only place I have ever called home. These were my decisions. All mine. I made them based on misinformation and trust and I relish admitting my faults and mistakes so that someday, if I'm ever stupid enough to find myself in a like position, I most definitely will NOT make these mistakes again. Take a breath, Warbler. Feel the force flow through you. Let go of your anger, you must, or the Dark side will you be.

Now, that being said...my asthma is finally under control and I have been cancer free for 14 years. I've lost 50 pounds since the baby and I'd like another 15, but I can't kickstart it and the Dino Dance really is about all the exercise I'm getting these days. My hair is still thick and bountiful = which really surprises me considering how much I lose in a day. I shed more than the dog and both cats all together! Actually, if I shaved my head, I'd probably lose another 7 pounds. I still have friends through my computer - although some friendships are starting to fade from the time/distance/we-have-a-life-and-you-don't thing. My oldest is gifted with the written word and my youngest is verbally advanced and still showing signs of musicality. My children need a father. A good father. I need some company and to restore my self-esteem. None of that's gonna happen any time soon, so I'll continue to vent my frustrations into the cyber-ether and then try to find and focus on the positive. Like these really cool pink satin jammies with purses and shoes printed all over. And my good skin. And my beautiful babies. And chocolate. And Shiraz. Ahhhh, there we go...